


Euphoria

by Ladiladida



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-08-20 08:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16552451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladiladida/pseuds/Ladiladida
Summary: So there they were, breathing ragged and staring at the ceiling. How it had started didn’t matter, all that mattered was them.A series of oneshots looking at the start of a relationship.





	1. Euphoria

The air of the room felt close and hot, one curtain yanked roughly across the window blocking out what remained of the summer’s night. Across the floor mingled with the clothes was a pillow and the corner edge of where the duvet had slid off. All was quiet around the corridor outside, most were still downstairs dining or in the bar. Save ragged breathing, nothing much could be heard at all, they were cocooned together in this hotel room. 

Side by side they lay, limbs flopped and askew. Robin’s left arm lay limp above her head, her right hand spanned loosely on her midriff. She felt every rise and fall there. Cormoran’s own hands rested on his forehead, the heel of each pressed against his relaxed brow as he worked to come down from the high he had experienced. He was lost for words.

No one who knew the neat and pretty Robin would recognise her so much now. Hair strewn all about her head in a messy halo, mascara smudged in the lower corner of each eye, pale pink lipstick long kissed away. Her silk shirt was open and creased, her pale violet bra now feel cumbersome unlike the long since discarded knickers. The skirt freshly ironed that morning was now ruckled up to her waist, the once composed neatness was long gone. 

Strike was in a similar state of dishevelled mid undress. So impatient had they been that removing everything was too much effort compared to the burning need they had felt. Ignited suddenly and spent deliciously. His own shirt hung from him, crumpled and somewhat buttonless now, his dark jeans strewn somewhere on the floor, boxers still dangling idly from his prosthetic ankle. In the urgency and desperation for each other, even that had been forgotten. Strike’s hands moved from his brow to run down his face, his thundering heart trying to regain its equilibrium, his once lead like body now felt featherlight. 

Sated desire caused the natural brewing of utter masculinity, he was ashamed to feel so after the wonderfulness of the last half hour. But the fact that it had been with Robin only amplified the feeling. He listened to her breathing as it entwined with his own. In another minute he would recollect himself and hold her. 

From the corner of his eye he could see her staring idly at the ceiling, focusing on whatever she saw there. Strike now turned his head to look at her, the beautiful woman whom he was now so intimately aware of. Those eyes of hers, so bright and brilliant, truly sparkled now. That was his doing.

Sensing his gaze, she turned her whole body on her side to face him. The movement of her breasts against the restraint of her bra caught his attention. Strike remembered how they moved and bounced against their lacy cage as she had moved above him. Temporarily spent so he was, the memory of mere minutes ago sent a lava like jolt to his baser instincts. Christ, he thought, I love her.

For a long moment they merely looked at one another, neither saying a word, nor feeling anything but the other’s presence. Drinking it in, Robin could not remember feeling so relieved, so... at peace, like some great weight had been lifted. Only minutes early they were wrapped up in a delicious and torrential rhythm that she had surprised herself with. Now, the world seemed easy somehow, she felt no self consciousness or worse... guilt. 

It was Robin’s turn to feel proud. Somehow, in the past, she felt Strike saw her as all that was steady and truthful. A good girl. Her hips had shown him some knew truths, she thought to herself. Rendering him as she did, so helpless and in awe beneath her, that he hadn’t attempted to take the control at all. Strike had revelled in it, the feeling of the rise and fall of her body against his. Robin who with so few lovers could show him her true self, unrestrained and free. The self that only he, the man she trusted deserved to see. Bloody hell, she thought, I love him.

By the end, he had been at the mercy of all she had wanted to give him for so long. But he had returned it all with the full force of his pent up feelings. Not only with his reciprocation and the way he had said her name over and over... but in how he looked at her. In that brief window of time, she had felt adored. 

Robin felt she should feel ashamed for her wanton behaviour. Taking charge after such an unexpected event and ending with a loud, satisfied cry of his name as she tumbled into oblivion. She might well have felt guilty had she ever experienced such a thirty minutes with Matthew. But the look of complete lust and adulation in Strike’s eyes had banished it just as his gentler gaze did now.

This would normally be the point where Strike however sated, would feel the urge for nicotine. It had been a common occurrence with all his lovers since Charlotte. But now, now he only looked on at Robin. The most he was able to say was her name as he still readjusted. His reward was her shifting closer to him, threading her arms about him and he her. 

Their heart rates were slowing now, they could each hear the other’s. This was bliss indeed. Strike’s lips began to lose the sensation of the intermittent bruising kisses they had exchange in the final minutes of euphoria. In that time, he had used his arms to haul himself backwards into a seating position. Robin had still been astride him, destroying any remaining barriers between them. 

By the end he had clung to her, one hand clutching the small of her back, guiding her on as she started to splinter into ecstasy. The other was tangled in her hair. Though he felt the loss of her in his lips now, he felt the mild sting of where her fingers had clutched at him, keeping him close to her, wanting him.

Pulling her closer, he kissed her with such gentle reverence that it seemed almost unlike him. Such size and strength that he was, both in his stature and in his manner, this was something new. Robin felt a strange sort of privilege as she returned the languorous kisses. Few had seen this side of him, she was sure.

“I don’t mean to ruin the moment,” he murmured, their faces close. “But despite your brilliant distraction in the last half hour, my leg is bloody killing me!”  
Robin laughed, the warmth of her breath falling soft in his face.  
“Let me.” She offered with a smile, giving him another quick kiss.  
“I think i just did.”


	2. Catalyst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fifteen minutes that changed everything.

Some time earlier...

“I am going to invest in an accident book for our office.” Robin joked, his arm about her shoulders as he beared as much weight as he dared into her slender frame. She was stronger than she looked, Robin hadn’t lied about that.  
“We’re not in the office now.” Strike quipped in return, though it was uttered through teeth gritted in pain. It wasn’t half as bad as it had been after an incident. But Robin has insisted on helping him and an opportunity of safe closeness to her was too good to pass up. 

“Right, I’m going to get some ice,” she explained, helping him into a chair on the first floor corridor. His room was typically at the end but Robin thought it best she help him here. 

Whilst she was gone, he rolled up hid trouser leg, cursing the stump quietly but also feeling grateful for it. All he’d wanted was for her to bring his Italian suit to the hotel. When packing for this trip, he hadn’t expected to need attire for a black tie event. But since Robin has brought the suit forty miles away, he thought they could at least have a meal together. Strike found it too easy to become bored with his own company in hotels.

She’d arrived on a rare day off looking the epitome of summer. Her figure flattered by the more casual skirt and blouse that she wore. Robin deserved to be reading a book somewhere on the Riviera, she looked picture perfect for it. In summer these days, she would often curl her hair into bouncy waves, it was different and Strike liked it. No doubt Matthew hadn’t liked her doing much with herself if it wasn’t for his benefit. Strike was pleased that Robin’s independence made her more comfortable in expressing herself in all ways. It’s just he struggled with ones that made her look lovelier than ever.

“I’m glad you’re still sat here,” she said, snapping him from his thoughts, “I thought you’d make a break for it in your stubbornness.”

In her hand she held a package of ice wrapped in a towel, as well as a glass of whisky. Robin knelt in front of him, a sight that distracted him from the pain for a moment, though not in a way he wanted. In her summery beauty, he didn’t want her playing nurse, not when she looked so...

“Here,” she said and he realised he’d zoned out again. She held out two ibuprofen and the glass of whisky. Strike took them gladly, the whisky especially and gulped them down. Soon her felt the pressure and chill of the ice on his knee. Yet in his mind, he now wondered how Robin might look in a broad rimmed sun hat and a bikini on a riviera beach.

“When you were little, before... you know...” Robin began, gesturing to his stump.  
“Before I mislaid it?” He replied ruefully, her large eyes looking into his, the humour tingeing them pleasantly.  
“Did your mum ever used to kiss parts of you that were hurt better?”

Before the look of concern flushed his face that Robin was about to kiss his stump, she continued.  
“My mum would, only knees and elbows. She tried to do it once when I was nine, I was mortified by then.”  
“You weren’t her little girl anymore.” Strike remarked, aware that to him she was a beautiful woman who felt good to be around. And if she kept looking up at him like that, something was going to give. Strike wasn’t sure he could be responsible for himself, though he would never step further than he felt was right. This boundary wasn’t going well at all.

“Well... i toughened up, I’ll still always be their little girl.” She shrugged, removing the ice quickly to observe any angry swelling. Satisfied, she stood up and said.  
“Let’s get you to your room.”  
“I can manage.”  
“I want to be certain you get there.”  
“I don’t need your help.” He said with light emphasis, he didn’t want to be rude. He just needed a little distance from her.  
“Fine.” She mock pouted, “I’ll stay here until I see that you’re inside.”  
Robin handed him the parcel of ice which had now begun to drip somewhat.  
“Very maternal of you.” He said and without thinking, he winked at her. 

Both registered the action for a second but said nothing. Strike proceeded to edge along the corridor, a hand grazing the wall every few steps for support. The pain was a little better just from the fifteen minutes of rest. He wished he could say the same for the feelings for his partner that were very acute right now.

Though making good progress, Robin remained at her post. In truth she was quiet enjoying the opportunity to view him this evening. He had been relaxed tonight, at times before he hurt his knee, he’d been close to flirting with her. With his beard trimmed neater and a freshly ironed blue shirt, a colour she found particularly suited him, he looked good. Very good, especially with his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow. 

Robin had a thing for forearms and hands, she had taken note of Strike’s this evening on several occasions. Things had changed for her lately and she became very aware of this when she took his call earlier that afternoon. Now, watching him, she didn’t want to go home, she’d settle for a night cap and a chat.

Strike became distracted by the feel of Robin’s gaze on him and less focused on maintaining his grip on the parcel. Soon one corner gave way and the misshapen ice cubes tumbled to the floor.  
“Shit!” He began, though due to their half melted state, he resigned to leave them there and continued on. It was only when he arrived at his hotel room door that he felt the sensation that Robin was near him. 

Turning his head, he saw her hold out her hand for his key card.  
“No buts!” She said emphatically and he searched his pockets to acquiesce. Struggling at first, he reached deep into his left trouser pocket and stumbled slightly. To his surprise, Robin did not move to catch him. Strike was grateful as he barely lost his balance, but pulling out the key card he waggled it in the air between them.

Robin’s pretty smile at his triumphant withdrawal of the key card strangely disarmed him. She did that generally though he had enough willpower to mask it. But not tonight it seemed.  
“I’d invite you in but...”  
“That’d be nice.”  
“... I imagine you have a long drive back.... oh...”  
“You don’t want me to?” She said quietly, chewing her lip.  
From that look between them, her in all her summeryness, Strike just said it.  
“I’d really like you too.”

Suddenly, the pain in his leg no longer registered in his brain. His mind was solely bent on the fact that Robin had now stepped closer and he saw the softest look in her eyes and her inviting pink lips. 

In an instant, their lips met in a passionate kiss, neither would be able to remember the initiator. Strike found his back lightly brushing the door, Robin pressed close against his chest, leaning into him.  
“We’re not writing this up in the book.” Robin mumbled between hungry kisses, her hands suddenly growing bolder and a heat surging up from somewhere long hidden. If she couldn’t have him now, she thought she would burst from need. Not just any need, no random man would do because this ran deeper. Robin was growing with it, finding confidence lost long ago. 

It took Strike three attempts with the key card due to the reluctance to break apart. This had started now, there was no thinking about it until later. The barrier had broke, the flood surged forth. With a final muttering of her name from Strike’s lips as he coaxed her’s deliriously, they vanished behind a closed door.


	3. Confluence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the darkness of early morning, Strike’s thoughts are only of Robin.

Soft breathing and the warm body next to him were the first fringes of his conscious awareness. Without any idea of the time and the room in complete darkness, Strike indulged in the peaceful comfort he had found himself in. Robin slept on soundly next to him, her breathing even and content. Nothing disturbed her dreams tonight, was that his doing he wondered? 

His last memory of her before he drifted off to sleep was her shifting onto her left side, facing away once more so he became the larger spoon. This was how their second time together that night had ended. His chest fused against her back, both glistening from sweat despite the more languorous pace. His arms had been about her, one holding her close, the other reaching between her drawn up legs to coax more joyous cries from her writhing body. 

Afterwards, she had turned towards him, truly spent now. She had draped an arm over his chest and his chin rested against the top of her head. Strike could feel of her heartbeat pummelling his side thickly as she calmed. For a long time they laid that way, recovering from the waves of intense experience they had shared. He had learnt many things about Robin tonight, one being that when she was truly ready to drift off to sleep, she liked to be near but not completely held by him. She was always independent.

Strike felt like he knew Robin from top to toe now. As he laid there, revelling his this new feeling, he realised how it was the last thing he expected. The second time had been by no means less passionate, but they had taken their time to explore one another. He had especially taken great pains to know her better, his large hands sweeping over every curve and dip of her body. Nothing was missed by him, he felt and watched for every reaction, solving the puzzle of Robin as a lover. Every small cry through to the shudder of muscle and arch of back was mapped and logged in his mind. 

It had not only been a night of pleasure, they had talked for a good two hours after their first time. Strike had risked the mini bar and they had whiled away a pleasant interval laughing and easy. Neither had expected such an event, Robin was as surprised as he. Then, unusually for Strike, he had spent a long period of time merely kissing her, the pressure and intensity varying as the ease of it all flowed around them. Kissing was a segway to sex in his experience, not in this case. Her lips were addictive and the response it drew from him was startling. 

It was true he had been intensely in love with Charlotte, but she represented the broken types of relationships he’d always known. Robin, why she was like a clear morning, settled and beautiful. Strike and she could course on a smooth tide, content with their matched minds and despite her initial worries, passions too. This was a real love, the right sort of love, deep and mutual.

There was no rush the second time and when he began to undress her, his hands shook a little. Robin had met every inch of his passion, yet she seemed to understand how this time, he wanted to show her the lover he would be for her. Whilst her piston like hips had driven him euphorically into bliss before, he wanted to demonstrate to her that he could be gentle and as it turned out, truly mischievous. 

How long he had kept her on the brink, he did not know. When she was near he would pulled away, massaging her hip bones and kissing her inner thighs. Only when she was a shuddering, impatient woman, the same wantoness returning from earlier did he move within her. During this period of mischief, he discovered something else, he could get Robin to swear in bed. She swore far beyond her almost self ashamed, everyday ‘buggar’. The sound had him smiling against her skin as he played out her passion. After that, they were lost, eyes and bodies locked together... for starters.

Strike was happy, they were together. He didn’t need to suppress his feelings anymore. Love could indeed be a liberation. Robin could be trusted, Robin was like no one else. 

Now, in the present, she moved a little next to him. Some of her hair landing by him, tickling his side. Though he could not see her, Strike knew that her face would be serenely beautiful. It was uncanny how this young woman from Yorkshire could quite literally fall into his life. She had both attracted and terrified him from the start. Even Charlotte’s wiles couldn’t succeed here. What Robin gave him even in their early days, respect and friendship had helped build his want for real change. Strike was no longer interested in coasting through life. Then it had grown greater.

“Cormoran.” She murmured as though sensing he was awake. He pulled her to him gently, her warm embrace too inviting to bypass. “Everything okay?”  
“Better than okay.” He replied, “Though we might think differently when we see the minibar bill later.”

He felt her laugh against his chest, and it sent a shiver through him. Was this how it would be now? The mere thought of her sending him all ways to arousal. He’d have to try and keep his hands and senses together in the office.  
“It’ll be fine.” She said softly, her hand coming up to stifle a yawn. Moving a little further against him, she sucked in a breath and he felt her wince. “Buggar.”  
He smiled to himself, normal service had resumed. She wasn’t impatiently calling him a bastard now. 

“You alright?”  
“I think I might have pulled a muscle in my thigh.”  
“Do you want me to kiss it better?” He joked, referring back to their exchange in the corridor.  
“I haven’t got the energy for you to start that again right now.” She said ruefully, her hand squeezing the arm nearest to it. As she said it, Strike felt himself yawn.  
“First job of the morning then.” He said sleepily.  
“Thanks.” She murmured likewise. Strike’s arms tightened about her for a long moment. Their exchanges became intermittent and less discernible, until at last, they both drifted back to sleep.


	4. Aurora

At 7pm, Robin woke naturally, her body clock was accustomed to such a time. Beside her, snoring quietly was Cormoran who looked the epitome of relaxed contentment. One arm hung loosely off the bed, the other she felt faintly touching her side, though he was motionless. Rising carefully and in the full knowledge she would be doing the walk of shame through the hotel, she gathered her belongings. In truth, she could’ve stayed in bed for hours. But she was due to follow a lead for a client at 11.30 that morning. Her inner thigh muscles twinged and felt tight. It had been a good long while since she had spent a night like that, there was always a price.

Stepping under the hot spray of the shower, she felt it’s radiating warmth rouse her and she was washed with utter happiness. Robin could still feel Cormoran all over her. It was though his fingerprints and lip prints were stamped on her skin forever. Such thoughts sent a shot of lust straight to her loins, was this really her?

In truth, since that day at university, she had never felt completely at ease owning her labido, she had just gone with the flow when necessary. But necessity no longer drove her, where Cormoran was concerned it was something wild and liberated and as it turned out, completely natural. There was no need for shame or unease anymore. 

Once out of the shower, hair turbaned in a towel and another wrapped around her body, she returned to the bedroom. Cormoran slept on, but even he needed to be awake. Robin flicked on the small kettle and proceeded to make them both a cup of tea. She really hated UHT milk! It was more the portion size than anything, they never gave you enough. 

As she waited, she looked back to Cormoran. Without the surly gaze he preferred to carry about in daily life, he looked more his age. Robin realised that she had found him handsome for quite some time, she could see how women gravitated towards him. He was unconventional and carried a strong air, she just hadn’t wanted to let that particular thought take root in the past. Robin had always had the ability to see through his attempts to appear indifferent, except as it turned out, regarding her. In her mind, Cormoran had only thought of her as a friend, though she knew he held her in some superiority. That was true, though the way he behaved last night showed her she had underestimated even that. To feel desired, wanted and loved by someone she trusted bone deep was wonderful. From the start, this had helped truly rebuild her. What growth came from initial respect and developed to much more. Last night had definitely been a mutual appreciation society of a very intense kind.

The new found love between them had been heated and intense, the realisation threatening to burn them both up. Such a consummation both emotionally and physically had both drained and flooded her person. How was that possible? Robin controlled how things gravitated around her generally, yet such a slow burn through knowing Cormoran had built to quite the crescendo. She loved him madly, he had been an open space where she could find herself. Only now did she realise how much they had grown together.

With the tea brewing, she picked up Cormoran’s prosthetic which had been flung off the bed carelessly during their second time being together and placed it near the bed.  
“Cormoran?” She said gently, touching his shoulder. At first he don’t move, but then his eyelids twitched and he hummed. As Robin watched, he prised his kids open with a groggy effort and blinked several times. His sleepy expression made her stomach flutter.

For a split second, Cormoran was confused by a towel glad Robin standing over him. Upon many memories flooding back at once and the feeling of sated sleepiness, he pulled at her with his hands until she half toppled onto his chest.  
“Morning.” She laughed, trying to breathe in his sleepy, bear like embrace.  
“Mmorningfffmmm.” He mumbled again, sound so tired that she wanted to leave him be. He was warm and comfortable, her body fitted against his easily, though he did dwarf her in width.  
“I’m going to have to go soon, I’ve made you some tea.”  
“I’ll come back with you.” He said, sounding more compus mentis when he realised the towel had slipped a little about her chest.  
“You’ve got to work and I’m tailing strawberry later.”  
“Her hair is ginger Robin.”  
“It’s the same shade as mine.” She chuckled, feeling herself being rolled so they were both on their side now facing each other. Robin quite forgot about the towel.  
“Fuck this, I’ve been here 3 days and nothing has happened. We’ll go back, do our bits and pieces and then we’ll go out for dinner.” He explained, wishing he had woken first for his breath was morning ripe.  
“Your tea will be alcoholic if I leave the bag in too much longer.” She said, motioning with her head to the kettle.  
“Five minutes.” He asked, more a request rather than comment.  
“Fine.” She acquiesced and rested her head against the chest bristled with hair.  
“Robin?”  
“Yes?” She answered, tracing circles against his side, each movement sending shivery sensations through him.  
“We’re okay aren’t we? We haven’t crossed the line?”  
“I think we have.” She explained, “but I don’t think it’s a bad thing in this case. Do you still love me?”  
The last part was asked ruefully, her fingers working in such a tempting manner, he risked forgetting all words.  
“Of course you bloody idiot.” He laughed, “I’d show you but I think I’ve got the mouth of a crematorium.”  
Robin laughed and drummed her fingers playfully against his skin.  
“Such a romantic sentiment.” She replied with a smile, “I love you too.”  
Cormoran’s heart was beating in a smooth, steady rhythm. It was nice for Robin to see him relaxed without a pint in his hand.

Fifty minutes later, they were driving home. What lay before them was that same office, same paperwork and same enquiries. It was the job they loved. Yet so much had changed, so much had ignited. There were delicious challenges and practicalities ahead. But each in the company of the other, true feelings declared, they might just stand a chance.


	5. Midsummer Night

Dinner plans would have to wait, it had been ‘one of those weeks’ to say the least. Five days had passed since they had returned together, their relationship transcending from feeling withheld to open bliss. However, it had not been without complications. Only a brief conversation between them had occurred in the land rover as both were tired. But they both agreed that their newfound relationship needed to stay out of their work time as much as possible. Both had managed to continue side by side feelings undeclared, so it should’ve been easy enough to keep their hands to themselves as much as possible. Were any passing thoughts of ‘christening the office’ floating in the new found ease between them, there was no time to even consider it. Clients could sometimes be hell on earth!

It was rare in Cormoran’s experience for both partners in a relationship to suspect each other so much, that both should hire a private investigator. Upon answering the phone two days after their euphoric excursion, Robin answered a call from none other than Strawberry herself. She too was suspicious of her husband, little realising the feeling was mutual. 

Promising to call her back, Robin and Cormoran had discussed, not without some amusement at the irony, about how to proceed. In the end, they put together a final bill for Strawberry’s suspicious partner and drew their services for him to a close. There was no other way to move forward without breaching codes that both of them revered. 

But that was not satisfactory for Strawberry’s husband, several angry calls followed and he made two attempts to enter the office unsuccessfully. Robin had to admit to Strike, that on his second attempt, she had locked the door and hidden under the desk giggling with Barclay until he had left. The final straw came when the disgruntled husband saw Robin emerge from the building the following day. He proceeded to harangue her regarding what he felt was unfair termination of services. 

Cormoran knee Robin could handle herself, he also knew Robin was in no more danger than hearing the usual moans and groans of the uneasy client. But Robin was now doing well with her CBT exercises but he knew she still struggled with being surprised. So when the now infuriated husband now ascended the stairs at Cormoran’s invitation, an hour before dinner plans were due, he knew his plan of action. In his typical fashion, Strike made it perfectly clear about the course of events what would follow, if he continued to harass the office and particularly Robin. Whatever passed between them was understood, though not before Strawberry’s husband had managed a right hook at Strike’s nose.

As Robin arrived, she saw the police car driving up the street and she clambered up the stairs. With her hair curl into loose ringlets and her lips red, she made quite the impact on Strike when she walked in. Dressed in a simple black maxi dress and sandals, she looked the embodiment of a midsummer night breeze. Robin immediately rushed over to him, both feeling concerned and amused at the tissue stuffed partially up his left nostril.

“The meeting went well then?” She asked, perching on the desk. Cormoran laughed.  
“You and I both know I’ve had enough blows to this crooked nose of mine. Barely felt it, it’s mostly superficial. Im almost embarrassed that it bled after such a pathetic blow.”  
“The police have got him I see.”  
“Vanessa was very amused when she arrived.” He explained ruefully. “I’m guessing she knows.”  
“I haven’t told anyone.”  
“She seems a smart girl, she’s likely guessed.”  
“We’ve missed our reservation.”   
“Sorry.” He replied and taking her hand he pulled her into his lap. Somehow she never saw him as a man who had women sitting on his knee.   
“Are you going to ask me what I want for Christmas?” Robin joked.  
“Bit early isn’t it?”  
“Shall I run down to the takeaway, we don’t need to go out.”  
Cormoran kissed her for a long moment and then laughing he replied.  
“If I stayed in every time I was injured, I’d have lived a hermit’s life.”   
“I don’t mind.”  
“You look far too lovely to be sat on an office chair eating Chinese takeaway on a Friday night.”  
“What about the pub then, Shakespeare?” She asked.  
“That’s more like it.” He chuckled and slipping off his knee, she gave him room to rise. Pulling the bloodied tissue from his nose he tossed it in the bin. “Give me five minutes.”

Strike caught a glimpse of the way the dress fitted snuggly at her figure. Her weight had gained a little since the Chiswell case, she looked happy and her skin glowed. Strike would have Robin in any form so long as there was light in those eyes. He had never known such softness and intelligence living so symbiotically in anyone. Robin now knew that she only had to prove and answer to herself. That’s what made those eyes light up, and that was what transfixed Cormoran as he looked at her now. Physically beautiful though she was, desirable though she looked, she was serenity.

He had considered this as he had removed his work shirt and he stood naked on his top half now, Robin still present. His hands reached out for her and for the longest of moments he allowed himself to be lost yet held by her arms and lips. Pulling back a little eventually, Robin a little breathless said.  
“We can stay here, it’s fine.”

Her eyes looked darker, they looked how she had in the hotel corridor, desire driven and tempted. It was true, they could spin themselves out of time, skin against skin and he’d be happy never to leave. But he could have that and the rest of her tonight. He loved to hear her, even on trivial matters as much as he adored being lost in her. He kissed her once more and again allowed a rare smile.  
“Come on, I need a pint so I can relive the pointlessness of the last hour.”

Robin seemed happy with this idea, the rest could be returned to at any time. But today they had seen little of each other. One of the best things about their relationship from day one is they always had things to tell, not games or criticisms to make. They could talk away time in utter contentment. Charlotte had been years of intense and tested dedication and he truly doubted he could ever feel so again. That part was true, but the greatest truth was he would give it all away for half an hour talking to this girl with the rose gold hair and her black dress.


	6. Omnipresent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments so far. I’m just writing fragments so I hope this continues to please.

With the passing of three months, their personal and professional lives were quite knitted together. The former was very private between them, their most significant previous relationships having been witnessed and scrutinised. Robin and Cormoran knew that for this to work, it would be kept quietly between them, everyone knew of course, but they never courted attention to it. Were they invited out to dinner with Nick and Ilsa or up to her parents’ home, they interacted fluidly as they always had. But those delicate intimacies were privileged secrets between them.

Still as a quarter of the year passed, evenings spent together often now resulted in drifting off sated and spent or merely falling asleep from an exhausting week. True, there were walls to and from tube stops, in the office and at the pub. But both remembered their first night and those that followed, those longer exchanges where they learned that deeper level of the other’s thoughts. It did not jar their relationship, nor was it suffering but both would smile to themselves in the morning about how this night ended.

It was true, their week had been a busy one, when wasn’t it. It had culminated in the four members of the C.B Strike investigation services passing an hour together at the Tottenham, settling up loose ends for the week. Cormoran had accompanied Robin back to her shared flat and both wolfed down the carbonara she quickly threw together. Robin’s forehead furrowed as she worked the egg on carefully, melting it into the velvet sauce. Her concentration was pleasant to watch in whatever facet he observed her. 

Strangely enough, both imagined they would fall straight into slumber when their heads hit the pillow. Yet with Robin beneath the duvet, body turned inwards to face him and he atop it, laid on his back, a quiet pause followed. Cormoran was a little warm due to the autumnal nights, Robin always seemed to sleep with a thicker duvet despite the season. But the silence was pleasant, both slowly allowed muscles and bone to relax, as did their minds. 

Robin looked at him, mascara free lashes lighter now, framing her eyes like fans. He sensed her gaze yet he did not look at her straight away, instead taking a moment to acknowledge his disbelief that he was still here 12 weeks later. Strike didn’t do false modesty, nor did he try to throw himself pity parties, but how the hell had he so fortunately arrived here? His mind often wondered about whether this would’ve worked ten years earlier, Charlotte and Matthew aside. Of late, mainly from catching a few photos of student Robin pre - that night, he considered it. But Robin was the strength and wisdom all rolled up in well intended kindness because of that last decade. Yet Strike imagined the seeds had already sprouted, the man in the mask held no responsibility in that regard.

“Are your thoughts expensive?” Robin asked with amusement, “I’ve only got 25p in my purse.”  
“I never was much of an enigma, and as to other thoughts, I think you’ve seen a fair few of them.”  
“You’re alright though?” She continued, tipping her head up a little to regard him, “no pain or anything?”  
“Not a bit, a bit stiff here and there but not like before...”  
“I know, you’re becoming such a slim Jim, sometimes I worry I won’t be able to see you.”  
“With my build and hair, you’ll always spot me.” He laughed.  
“That’s true. So... anything particular on that mind of yours?”  
“I was just thinking about how adaptable you are.”  
“I see...” She said ruefully, wondering what would follow.  
“No I mean... when I went to university it was because I needed to get away from Whitaker... and all of it... I left for the same reason. But you, you’re both a home bird and yet you seem so comfortable here now.”  
“Don’t you feel the same when you go to Cornwall?”  
“I have nostalgia certainly, the better times were there... but... these streets are definitely home.”  
“I suppose... home is safe and familiar for me, but here... well it stretches my comfort zone. Masham had a horizon that I reached, here...I keep working towards... being better, I suppose.”  
“That’s a good way of putting it, I think in some ways I feel the same about it...”  
“A large part of it is you too and were anything to change, that would still be true... meeting you and getting involved in the business... well it drives me on.”  
“I’ve told you before, a lot of that is down to you. I wasn't lying that time on the motorway.”  
“I know.”

She felt his large paw like hand thread his fingers through one of her own. It was the only contact between them, yet his head fully turned towards her. Eyes locked them together even when they barely touched during times like this. Cormoran yawned and Robin ever empathetic followed suit. Yet neither were ready to relinquish this quiet exchange just yet. 

“Do you think ten years ago, partners aside we’d have ended up here?” He asked, though his tone was tinged with humour.  
“You’d have been far too bear like for me back then... I liked clean shaven, skinny men before I landed in your office.”  
“I was a little thinner and certainly cleaner shaven back then...”  
“You were still a bear though, I’ve seen the photos.”  
“Who gave that away? I worked hard so no one sees my back catalogue.” He said with mock outrage.

Robin yawned again, gracefully bringing a hand to her mouth.  
“You best speak to Ilsa then.”  
Her playful tone, though delivered sleepily sent that jolt to the part of him that became allured by her mischief. It was true, there’d have been little way they’d have found themselves here a decade ago. But that didn’t matter, their paths had woven together now. Cormoran’s eyes drifted open and closed several times, a wash of contented sleepiness passing over him, but he gave her hand a slight squeeze which was faintly returned. Robin’s eyes were also heavy.

“Robin?”  
“Mhmyes.”  
“You’re the love of my life.” He said, an unfortunate yawn tinging the end of it, though his sincerity was not dampened by it.  
“That’s nice.” She replied with a sleepy smile, her eyes fluttering closed. A pause passed before she squeezed his hand tight and peeked through one heavy eye at him.  
“You’re... the... mhmm mine too...”  
He felt his hand be stroked by her thumb a few times. His own eyes closed but he fought several times to keep them open.   
“Cormoran.” She murmured, but he knew that was her final word. It often was when they were in bed, though not in these circumstances. This time it was like some sort of spell. He relinquished his fight, let peacefulness overcome him and he drifted off to sleep. 

A birdseye view from an omnipresent being would show the tableaux of contentment. She still on her side facing inwards, he stop the duvet, head dropped back against the pillow. Their fingers, though relaxed still remained laced together, staying as such for a short while.

When morning came, Cormoran rose first, making them both a tea. After that, he pulled her down with him, peeling back anything that kept her smooth skin from his gaze. As passions rose, both remembered mercifully that her flat mate was out and they continued unrestrained. The comfort of placid company the previous night, renewing their drugging need for the other, stalling the ache for a short time. Would ever a time come where he did not want her? Cormoran found the idea difficult to believe. Moving above her now, looking into those bright eyes and feeling the ecstatic arch of her hips meeting his, he doubted it. Lost in each other as they were, it was still quiet and peaceful in its affect. For with Robin, he was rested, sated and steadied yet always greedy for more. The love of his life, her body wrapped around his, his life absorbed with hers. Private, flawed individuals relishing their carved part of the world.


End file.
